“Lilly, you a monster, okay? Okay Lilly?”
I watch the three-year-old twins running around the airport terminal, full of laughter and games, shrieking and giggling away. It’s so nice to see people actually happy to be in an airport, even if their joy comes strictly from youth. It lends the desolate place some much needed cheer this holiday season.
Right behind me, surly business folk are typing away on their laptops, always plugged in, despite the hour, despite the day. Money is to be made, and they will make it even as they step onto the plane, talking into their Bluetooth, checking their financials with an app on their phones.
To my left, a few old women totter, nodding off and starting awake when the twins venture too near. Those girls are the only children on this flight. Eight at night must be too late for most kids, I guess. Either way, I feel lucky. No crying brats, no fighting siblings. These two toddlers I can handle. At least they’re happy.
We’re all lined up now. The man behind me smells sticky sweet, like old tobacco and coffee. I hope I’m not sitting next to him. The woman right in front of me is sneezing. Gross. Actually, I’ll take stinky man over sick lady.
Oh, isn’t that cute? The twins are mimicking the scan machine as the flight checker goes through the tickets. Most people are chuckling. I guess I’m not the only one who finds them adorable.
Oh, the father is talking to the checker. Trying to get them on board first. I don’t know how I feel about that. On the one hand, they have a lot of stuff, and they’ll have to settle those two in. On the other hand, stand in line like everyone else.
Family boarding. Blast them. They’ll probably take up all the space in my overhead bin.